


Interrogation

by Ryu_ookami



Series: Snapshots of Sherlock [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Laughter, Minor Character Bashing, Mockery, Sherlock likes being a virgin, attempted nonconsensual drugging, not-quite-crack but still funny, really bad jokes, really bad jokes are in here, seriously, some Anderson!bashing, some Donovan!bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 05:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_ookami/pseuds/Ryu_ookami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A woman scorned leads to laughter and mockery. Wait. What?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation

Sherlock and John sat at the table, purposefully ignoring the police constable standing behind them, one of them occasionally breaking into muffled, quiet laughter. This lead to the laughing party nudging the other one which would cause the other one to break into muffled giggles as well. This cycle of merriment continued for some time.

The door to the interrogation room flew open. Donovan and Anderson both stalked in grinning from ear to ear like the proverbial cat that not only caught and ate the early bird but had managed to eat its next door neighbour the mouse as well.

“Well Freak, you're in for it now aren't you?” Donovan sneered.

“Do you know how much trouble you're both in?” Anderson asked, visibly gloating at the thought of finally being able to get one over on the so called great Sherlock Holmes and his irritating sidekick Dr Watson.

“Is that a question? Shouldn't any questions be asked when the tape's running?” came the cheeky response, surprisingly enough from John's direction. John loved his cop shows and had learnt all about the good cop and bad cop routines and the way interviews should be conducted, after all he'd seen every episode of The Bill.

“Fine, you want to play hard ball? I can play hard ball.” Anderson threw the retort back at John, trying to sound tougher than he actually was, this just produced more snickers and giggling from the other side of the table.

Anderson placed two tapes in the tape recorder on the desk, pressed record and began; “Interview on the 29 of July 2012. Present in the room are Mr Anderson and Sergeant Donovan on behalf of the Metropolitan Police force. Also present are Mr Sherlock Holmes and Mr John Watson.”

John seemed to have a moment of clarity in between his bouts of giggling and interrupted, “That's _Doctor_ John Watson. Unlike _someone_ in this room, I happen to have a medical degree.” John looked pointedly at Anderson as if daring him to say otherwise.

Anderson looked rather put out at this but he continued, “Correction, _Doctor_ John Watson,” he ground out, lips curled in a show of contempt. “Also present on behalf of the Metropolitan Police force is Constable...” Anderson paused he'd forgotten the constable's name. They all looked alike in their uniforms to him anyway he thought.

The constable spoke up for the first time. “For the record, also present is Constable Smith,” said the uniformed man firmly.

Anderson huffed. “Right, I know you've been read your rights so I don't need to repeat them.”

Sherlock and John just ignored him and shared a look, lips curling into identical smirking grins before they started giggling to themselves.

Donovan turned to the pair. “What are you giggling about anyway?” she asked crossly, not even the slightest bit amused at the fact that they seemed to be ignoring her and the severity of their situation.

“Anderson.” Sherlock said, getting his giggling back under control and taking a breath he continued just as quietly, “ _Nymphomania_ c mucophilia bottom boys say what?” he finished with a wicked grin.

“What?” Anderson blinked and frowned, not exactly sure he had heard correctly what had just been said.

Sherlock and John both burst into uncontrollable laughter which wasn't helped when the constable behind them started sniggering as well.

Donovan just shook her head. Getting these two into an interrogation room had taken a lot of time and trouble. She'd had to call in practically every favour she was owed to make it happen. That, combined with getting Lestrade called away at the last instant before his meeting with the Freak, and then going to the trouble of spiking Sherlock and Watson's mugs of coffee in Lestrade's office.

She knew she would be in a lot of trouble if she got caught, but, in her mind, it was worth it.

John looked at Sherlock and snorted, quelling the laughter that wanted to bubble up out of his mouth. “Sherlock,” he began, “what do you call a three legged donkey?”

Sherlock looked at John questioningly, all the possible permutations of answers racing through his head in a split second. Unable to come up with a solution that would also fit their current situation, he shrugged his shoulders.

“A wonkey,” John joked with a wide smile. There was a moment of quiet before he fell off his chair, unable to hold in the gales of laughter which shook his form.

The police constable stepped forward and helped John sit back up, his eyes gleaming with amusement even though his expression was suitably stern.

Sherlock considered John's joke for a few moments before looking at the blond and exclaiming, “I get it now!” before he paused, head cocking to the side as he considered something. After a moment, Sherlock took a deep breath and asked, deadpan, “John what do you call a two legged ass?” His eyes gleamed and he grinned widely, white teeth bared as he waited to see if John would respond.

John thought for a few minutes, trying to ignore the urgent need he had to laugh before shrugging his shoulders. “I've no idea Sherlock. What do you call a two legged ass?”

“Anderson.” Sherlock quipped.

“What?” Anderson responded, feeling insulted and looking quite put out by the way the pair were treating their time in the interview room.

“No, that’s the answer.” Sherlock explained slowly, acting like he was explaining things to a five-year-old, before grinning like a loon at Anderson.

“The answer to what?” Anderson spat out the query like a bullet, his confusion slowly starting to show.

“The answer to 'What do you call a two legged ass?',” Sherlock pointed out deliberately. “You call it Anderson,” he said as he smiled smugly. Never let it be said that he didn't understand humour he thought.

There was a muffled snort of laughter from the constable behind Sherlock. John looked at Sherlock for a moment before slowly sliding off his chair and disappearing from view under the table. There was a moment of silence, then, suddenly, gales of laughter could be heard coming from under the table. “Two legged ass...Anderson....Two legged Anderson...”

Donovan shook her head with a dark frown. “Dr Watson get up from under the table,” she ordered. The giggles, snorts and wailing laughter continued unabated. “ _Now_ Dr Watson,” she repeated angrily, lips pursing.

There was a pause, then the noise slowly died down until it was replaced with a hiccuping, breathy chortles. John's head slowly came into view where he could be seen to still be snickering to himself.

Constable Smith stepped forward and helped John back into his seat again, lips twitching, trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement at the now red faced Anderson. After John was reseated the constable stepped back again, resuming his place behind Sherlock.

Donovan tried to start again, standing up and leaning forward, her hands braced on the table as she tried to loom menacingly over the now seated Sherlock and John. “So Sherlock, if I may call you Sherlock?” she continued, replacing the word 'Sherlock' with the word 'freak' in her own head. Sherlock just looked at her sideways, and as she was about to continue, John interrupted with, “Knock knock?”

With a frustrated growl, Donovan sat down heavily and re-thought her strategy for dealing with the two nuisances. It looked like the only way this interview was going to work was if she just let them talk, and hopefully, with a bit of subtle guidance she would catch them out that way.

If that didn't work, well...she could always make the freak incriminate himself if she tried hard enough, she thought to herself, doing her best to hide her distaste at being in the same room with either of the laughing, joking, freaks.

John tried again. “Knock knock?” he repeated slightly louder than the first time.

Anderson, who should have known better, couldn't help but answer, conditioned as he was by the British public school system, to answer any time he heard the words 'Knock knock'.

“Who's there?” Anderson regretted the words as soon as he heard them leave his lips.

John grinned. “The interrupting cow,” he said, lips pulled wide by an unholy smile, his grin growing larger and more predatory as he smirked at Anderson.

Anderson, realising he had no choice but to see this through to the end, continued his inevitable march towards his doom, secretly dreading what he knew was coming. “The interrup-” before he could finish his sentence John interrupted him with a very loud “MOOOOO!”

The room froze, and there was a long, pregnant pause before both John and Sherlock burst into fresh gales of laughter, tinted with a manic edge.

Anderson took a deep breath and slowly counted to ten... twice, then began again. “Do you know how much trouble you're in?” he asked forcefully, trying hard to hide his irritation at the fact that this interview wasn't going the way he and Donovan had planned. He paused, waiting with slowly mounting frustration and anger for an answer.

Unfortunately it wasn't long in coming, as both Sherlock and Watson replied in unison, “As the actress said to the bishop!”

Sherlock seemed to have a clear head for a split second, and he stared pointedly at first Anderson, then, for a longer period of time, Donovan, directly in the eye. “Big brother is always watching you know,” he said to Donovan, as though this should mean something to her.

Anderson snapped. “First jokes, now infantile paranoid fantasies?! You are in serious trouble and unless you tell us what we want to know that troubles only going to get worse. Do you understand me, you freak?!” he bellowed having finally lost any initial shred of patience he had with the situation.

John looked first at Sherlock and than at Anderson. Taking a breath he asked, completely serious and focussed, “So what do you want to know?”

Donovan grinned. Bringing in Anderson had been worth it. While legally he shouldn't be present during an interview, his rash manner and lack of training might just work to her advantage. “Where were you and Sherlock on the night of the 15th of this month?”

John looked puzzled for a moment and then shrugging his shoulders he proclaimed in a childlike voice. “I don't know.”

Donovan scowled and rubbed her forehead in irritation, she had a headache starting and she knew it was only going to get worse. Before she could respond to Dr Watson’s comment however the Freak beat her to it.

“Well, they say that the memory is the second thing to go.” Sherlock's voice came across the table.

“What’s the first?” Dr Watson’s voice sounded puzzled.

“I forget.” Sherlock's lightening quick response came back. This time the constable behind Sherlock couldn't help himself. He let out a quick, surprised bark of laughter before quickly recomposing himself when he received two identical frowns from Donovan and Anderson.

“Anderson,” John whispered beckoningly, hissing at the other man. “Anderson...” John leaned forward and Anderson leant forward to hear him properly. “I know something you don't know,” John said lowly, as though trying to keep a secret from Sherlock.

Donovan smiled triumphantly. Finally, they might get something worth while out of this mess. She nodded to Anderson, indicating that he should lean forward and listen to Dr Watson. Watson for his part looked over both shoulders as if to check that no one else was listening to what he was about to tell Anderson.

“Did you know that the word 'gullible' doesn’t appear in the dictionary?” Dr Watson continued in a normal voice, before sitting back with a self-satisfied smug grin.

Anderson's head slowly hit the table with a loud thud. There was a pause as Anderson lifted his head five inches from the table before he dropped it, letting it thud against the table once more.

Donovan placed her hand on Anderson's shoulders, trying to be as comforting as she could be in the situation. “It's okay.”

“I know,” Anderson responded, his voice muffled as he continued banging his head on the table. “It's just that they're making this so hard.”

Before she could comfort him any more, three voices from the other side of the table proclaimed in unison, “that's what she said.”

There was a pause as Donovan pointedly glared at the constable who had the decency to turn red and mumble, “Sorry couldn't help myself,” over the unashamed childish sniggering of both Sherlock and John.

John turned to Sherlock and slowly winked at him out of sight of both Donovan and Anderson. “Do you think we should tell them about The Accident?” he asked, pretending to try, and fail, to keep from being heard, his eyes glinting with gleeful humour that only Sherlock could see.

Donovan grinned _Jackpot_ she thought. She could almost hear the capital letters as Dr Watson had proclaimed the words 'The Accident'.

Sherlock looked as though he was going to respond negatively so before he could shut John down Donovan quickly took over. “Yes John,” she waited a breath before continuing in a saccharine tone of voice, a sickly, forced smile on her face, “you didn't mind if I call you John do you?”

Dr Watson just slowly shook his head.

“Why don't you tell me all about this 'Accident',” she slowly savoured the words as they left her mouth.

John looked at Sherlock, who nodded, a grin playing at the edges of his mouth, shrugged his shoulder and began, “Well, myself and Sherlock were-”

Anderson interrupted, “It's Sherlock and I,” he sneered. He hated grammatically incorrect sentences.

John looked confused for a second before he replied, “No. I'm positive it was Sherlock and I. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered you being there.”

Anderson just started banging his head on the table again. Donovan who by this point was slowly wanting to tear her hair out, just slowly folded her jacket up and placed it under his head. Anderson didn't seem to notice and just continued slowly banging his head.

“Carry on Dr Watson,” she smiled, encouraging him to continue. “You were saying?”

“As I was saying, Sherlock and I,” he stared pointedly at the top of Anderson's head, almost daring him to interrupt. “Well,” he continued, “Sherlock, Repeat, and I, we were all in this boat, and then Sherlock and I jumped out, so who was left?” he paused as though confused.

Donovan, trying to be helpful and move the interview along, gently tried to nudge him into continuing by answering Dr Watson’s self-asked question. “Repeat?”

John looked at Donovan and shrugged. “Sherlock, Repeat, and I, we were all in this boat, and then Sherlock and I jumped out, so who was left?”

Thinking that Dr Watson hadn't heard her, Donovan spoke a bit louder this time, half growling the word as she said loudly, “Repeat!”

The constable behind Sherlock looked at Donovan, shook his head and slowly started to change his mind about promotion, as apparently one of the criteria was the removal of most of your brain cells. His five year old niece had told him this joke and she had thought it was hysterically funny. He could see the train wreck of Donovan's interview as it slowly came down the tracks but he couldn't tear his eyes away and was almost forced to watch the derailment as it happened.

John just continued looking at Donovan innocently while secretly hugging himself inside with glee. He repeated the sentence a third time “Sherlock, Repeat, and I, we were all in this boat, and then Sherlock and I jumped out, so who was left?”

The constable changed his mind from watching the train wreck to working out how he could get a copy of this tape. He'd make a fortune selling it to everyone on his shift and in the station, as Donovan wasn't well liked by anyone except Anderson.

John paused almost hoping that Donovan would say repeat again.

Donovan started to say “Repe-” then stopped, catching the look on Watson's face. She thought back over the past few seconds and realised what had been said. Glancing at Anderson she saw the other's head still going up and down on the jacket now accompanied by a quiet sobbing sound. Further scanning the small interview room and seeing the knowing grin on the constable face was the final straw.

With a cry of frustration, anger and hatred, Donovan exploded, grabbed Watson by his jacket lapels and dragged him across the table, her fingers twisted into the fabric as she spat insults into John's slowly darkening face, all the while screaming incoherently.

Constable Smith started to move forward, but just before he reached the table however the interview room door flew open with a loud bang.

There was a sudden silence and everybody froze except Donovan who continued to scream and shout at Watson practically spitting in his face with her rage.

Sherlock, without even looking up, smiled whilst murmuring just loudly enough for Watson to hear, “It's over John.”

Dr Watson nodded and reached over the table, firmly applying pressure to a specific point he had learned in his youth, causing Donovan to break her grip with a startled yelp, and go numb from the wrist down to the tips of her fingers.

John sat back down, nodded at Sherlock and then started glaring at the sergeant, who was at that point shaking in anger and denial that he had managed to treat her, in her mind at least, so contemptuously. She started shaking her wrists trying to get some sort of feeling back into them.

Constable Smith stepped forward and handed Dr Watson a handkerchief. John briefly nodded in thanks and started to wipe the spit from his face. Once he was finished he quietly folded the handkerchief over and handed it back to the constable with a second nod and a quiet word of thanks, his entire demeanour a complete turnaround from earlier.

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes before saying loudly enough for all to hear, “Hello Mycroft, how's Mummy?”

There was a thud as Anderson's head hit the table one more time in disbelief.

“Mummy's doing quite well, although she does wish that you would visit more often, Sherlock,” Mycroft replied. “Dr Watson, have you acquired any injuries from your assault from that women?” Mycroft questioned, sneering at Donovan with obvious distaste. “I have several people to hand should you require any medical aid.”

“No, I'm fine, thanks Mycroft.” John smiled at Mycroft and nodded a greeting at Lestrade whom he could see behind him. “She didn't actually hurt me, she just tried to drown me in spit, so a bath's in order but other than that I'm all good.” John looked down at his jacket and the stretched, almost torn material. “Mind you, I think she may have killed my jacket,” he continued looking quite sad at the thought that his favourite jacket may have finally met its demise.

“Would someone like to explain to me what the hell is going on?” Lestrade demanded. “I get called to a meeting at Scotland Yard with special branch, only to get there and find that they have no idea what I'm talking about!

“Then, I'm about to leave when Mr Holmes here, walks in, speaks to several high ranking officers and the next thing I know, He-” Lestrade nodded in Mycroft's general direction “...and several highly placed special branch officers and I are involved in a high speed journey across London, only to arrive at my own station to find that one of my officers is assaulting a member of the public!”

Lestrade had to pause for breath, a grim expression falling over his face. “All of this is,” he continued darkly, “in addition to the fact that, during on the journey I was informed that at least one of my officers was going to be arrested on charges of attempting to pervert the course of justice, possession of class A drugs, possession of class A drugs with intent to supply, assault-”

“Criminal damage,” John interrupted, looking morosely at his now dead favourite jacket.

“...criminal damage,” Lestrade continued.

“Unlawful detention,” Sherlock also interrupted, looking smugly at John.

Lestrade tried to ignore the headache he had forming, “...unlawful detention,” he sighed as he attempted to continue.

“Threatening behaviour,” Constable Smith chimed in.

Both Sherlock and John turned to him and smiled as he grinned back.

“...threatening behaviour,” Lestrade repeated glaring at Constable Smith. Smith was meant to be his side helping him not trying not to inflame the situation.

“Conspiracy to commit high treason against the crown.” Mycroft stated grandly.

There was a stunned silence as everyone turned to look at Mycroft. Even Anderson stopped banging his head and looked incredulously up at Mycroft .

“You _are_ aware that Sherlock is listed as a national treasure, are you not, and that any injury that befalls him is considered an attack on the crown. Please, do continue Detective Inspector Lestrade, there's a good chap.” Mycroft turned a slight pink colour as he realised everyone was watching him.

Lestrade ground his teeth continued, “So, before I throw you into cells, is there any way at all that one of you can explain what the hell was going through your head? Well? Donovan, Anderson, I'm waiting.”

Constable Smith quickly glanced at the tape recorder whilst everyone else was looking at Mycroft. It was still recording. Constable Smith's inner voice did a small dance for glee. At the rate things were going he'd never have to buy another drink in the pub again! He'd be able to drink on this story for months, and if he could get a copy of the tape, or better yet the video tape, he'd be set for life.

Anderson took a deep breath before his composure broke. “It was all her,” he pointed at Donovan. “She made me do it!” he continued. “She said that the streets weren't safe with the Freak and his boyfriend walking about. That it was only a matter of time before he stopped investigating murders and started committing them, that's if he hasn't already.” he paused again looking at Donovan before breaking down and starting to sob again.

“Well Donovan, anything to say?” Lestrade turned to Donovan, questions and disappointment evident on his face.

Donovan spat her response at Sherlock. ”it's your fault, You shouldn't have turned me down. No-one turns me down and gets away with it, you could have had all this,” so saying she ran her hands down over her breasts and down to her hips, “but no, you turn it down and then continue turning up at MY crime scenes, and then to make it worse you started to bring HIM along!” she was by now screaming, practically incandescent with rage. “Rubbing my nose in the fact and ignoring me. NOBODY IGNORES ME!” She screamed one last time, then she collapsed as though all the energy had left her body.

John looked at Sherlock. “Turned her down?” he asked questioningly.

Sherlock shook his head in bemusement. “No idea.” He glanced at Donovan, for once not sure what was happening.

Donovan started to laugh hysterically. “You don't even remember do you? The Christmas party of 2011? We shared a taxi, we cuddled and then when we got to my place I invited you up for coffee. You said it was late, I said that was okay that you could stay the night but you said no. YOU SAID NO!” she screamed the last three words before looking at Sherlock's face then started to laugh again. “I only have one bed. Where do you think you would have slept? You said 'No' to this,” she pointed at her body again.

Sherlock considered this for a for a moment. “The Christmas party of 2011. You mean the one where you got drunk, insisted on crawling into my taxi and then repeatedly demanded that the taxi driver to take you to a party?” Sherlock paused, “if I remember correctly, I managed to get him to take you home, at which point you then vomited over my shoes before falling over and passing out in your own vomit.” Sherlock paused and shuddered, the memories becoming clearer as he thought about them.

“Upon arriving at your domicile, you proceeded, whilst still covered in vomit I might add, to invite everybody within shouting distance into your abode for a sexually fuelled frenzy”

Lestrade looked confused for a second “He means an orgy” John pointed out helpfully.

Sherlock ignored the interruption continuing “Luckily one of your neighbours called the local police station and two female officers turned up who proceeded to take care of you, so I want home and thanked my lucky stars that I was single.”

Mycroft looked at Lestrade. “As fascinating as all of this is, I'm sure we should do something about the illegal substances that your officer has caused to invade and infect my brothers and Dr Watson’s bloodstream.”

Lestrade nodded and moved to one side as man in a black suit carrying a steel case walked in.

The new arrival quickly placed the case on the desk and glanced at Sherlock and Watson. “I'll just need a blood sample and we'll soon have you feeling right as rain,” the strange little man reassured them both snootily, and the room at large, ignoring the strange tension as though he was above it all, looking as if everyone should fall at his feet and start grovelling just for being in his mere presence.

Sherlock looked at the man as though he was a bug under a microscope. “There's no need.”

“Nonsense,” the man interrupted haughtily, waving off Sherlock's response. “I'm the doctor and you've been poisoned. It's my duty to save you, after all you're a national treasure,” the self proclaimed doctor struck a pose imagining himself on the new years honours list or perhaps even a Knighthood for saving a national treasure.

Sherlock sighed and shook his head at Mycroft. “Mycroft, we haven't been poisoned.”

“Rubbish!” the Doctor interrupted again. “You're obviously under the effects of the drug or drugs that she gave you!” he glared at Donovan before turning the glare on John daring him to say otherwise.

Sherlock started again, his eyes narrowing in dislike. “We didn't drink the drinks.”

Donovan looked up at John with a start, eyes wide and horrified, but John just smirked back at her.

Sherlock stared across the table at Donovan, “we were about to drink them, but upon taking the first sip I noticed that the coffee had a slight garlicky taste.”

Sherlock paused to take a sip of water from a glass that Constable Smith had placed in front of him.

“Thank you” Constable Smith just nodded “I immediately realised that the drinks had been doctored with Methylsulfinylmethane.” Sherlock looked around seeing several blank faces in the room. Ignoring them he started speaking again “Knowing that it could be used to bring other biological agents into the blood stream, I realised that the drinks were being used as a way to force us to ingest something that we obviously didn't want to have in our system. This brought to mind a rumour I'd been informed of, by several of my contacts, that a certain police officer had been seen buying several small bottles of Methylenedioxymethamphetamine.”

 Lestrade looked confused so Sherlock decided to put him out of his misery.

 “Methylenedioxymethamphetamine is the chemical name for ecstasy,” he paused as he considered how much help Lestrade might actually require, “though I believe the street name for the liquid form is Molly,” he continued, deciding that to much information would probably be better than too little in this instance.

 Sherlock ignored the heated glares that Donovan was now sending his way, “we immediately made a pretence to get Donovan out of your office and then poured the drinks into a near by plant pot.”

 Anderson looked shocked, face paling. “Then...then, what about...” he stammered, unable to complete a sentence.

 “Yeah, we were faking it.” John grinned before turning to Lestrade, slowly losing his grin and appearing rather sheepish instead. “Uh, yeah,” he coughed, sounding slightly embarrassed, “I think we may have killed your plant, sorry about that.” John grimaced.

 Sherlock sighed. “Knowing the effects that ecstasy has on a human being, we immediately started to mimic the effects as we waited, knowing that you would eventually show up, Mycroft.”

 Lestrade looked thoughtful for a moment knowing there was something wrong with this explanation but not sure what. Then it hit him. “But how did you know Mycroft would show up Sherlock?” he asked dreading the answer.

Sherlock pointed to the camera in the corner that no one had paid any attention to since entering the room. “Big brother IS always watching,” he replied, appearing unable to decide whether he was more happy or annoyed about this little fact working in his favour this time. “Now, can we leave you to clear this mess up?” Sherlock nodded towards John, “We've had a rather trying day and would like to leave.”

“Certainly.” Lestrade seemed only to keen to get them away from here. “I'll come by and take your official statements later.”

Sherlock nodded and tried to walk through the door as John tried to pass though as well. Bumping John to one side Sherlock looked at him sideways with a mischievous gleam in his eyes and lips that curved into a wicked grin. “Be careful, I'm a national treasure don't you know,” he said, smirking in Mycroft's general direction, before walking off down the hallway with Dr Watson at his side, the smaller man chuckling lightly.

 Mycroft watched them leave side by side, and at that moment had an epiphany a shift had occurred in his brother's world. Watching them walk away he realised that in Dr Watson his brother had a new protector, moral compass and god help them all a new partner in crime. Something he believed Sherlock had been missing for a very, very long time, every since Sherlock's all too brief childhood and the Fifi incident in fact.

 Mycroft looked around the room and then back to the now rapidly disappearing duo at the end of the long hallway. Nodding to himself he realised that with those two supporting each other things were about to become a lot more interesting. His lips twitched minutely before he turned back to the room to start untangling the mess his brother had once again left him with.

**Fin**


End file.
